No Place For A Hero
by Minnie Fridge
Summary: For I'm just Saiyan's music challenge. Bulma picks up the "head" of one her her droids. Oil drips from its "neck" to the ground, and in the red light of the Gravity Room it almost looks like blood. Bloodthirsty. Cutthroat. Precise. *Precision training. Accuracy. That's all this is.* Bulma hopes, the alternative too frightening for her to admit.


Bloodthirsty.

Cutthroat.

Precise.

These are the words running through Bulma's head as she inspects what's left of her sparring droids. In the past four months she's gotten into the routine of waiting for Vegeta to vacate the gravity Room so she may collect the damaged droids. She took her time, finding the weak points, strengthening them and sometimes starting again from the ground up. At first it nearly took a week to rebuild them, now Bulma was getting them up and running again by morning light.

Today's macabre scene had the heads of her droids separated from their bodies. An odd sight, as Vegeta usually preferred to have them in as many pieces as possible by the end of the day. Bulma would have to review the GR Footage of today's session, see if he is merely training for accuracy or if he is beginning to have some difficulty breaking her "toys."

A shudder runs through her, strangely discomforted at the thought of Vegeta not being able to break her second-rate-robo-warrior-wannabe's. (His words, not hers.)

Bulma picks up the "head" of one her her droids. Oil drips from its "neck" to the ground, and in the red light of the Gravity Room it almost looks like blood.

Bloodthirsty.

Cutthroat.

Precise.

Precision training. Accuracy. That's all this is. Bulma hopes, the alternative too frightening for her to admit.

In two days time Bulma has had no droids to collect. All are still in working order, a little worse for wear but completely functional. She finds several large dents, and one is particularly charred but at this time all stand proudly having survived not one, but two training sessions with the Prince of all Saiyans.

Blood runs cold in her veins. He's supposed to be better than Earths heroes, ruthless. Vegeta shows no mercy and takes no prisoners. And he certainly doesn't care if he destroys any of Bulma's "hours-of-work-so-can't-you-be-a-little-gentler? toys" with the flick of his wrist and a burst of energy from his hand.

Bulma's temper boils her once cold blood, head swimming in fea- anger. It makes her dizzy. She finds the source of her frustration enjoying a warm meal he does not deserve in a home she is no longer certain that he can protect. "What happened?"

"What are you talking about woman?" He doesn't bother to finish chewing before responding, food in his mouth like a barbarian.

"My 'second-rate-droids', why are they not in a million pieces?"

This time Vegeta does swallow before replying. "You harp on me for demolishing them, now today you are upset that I took mercy on your little playthings?"

At the word 'mercy' Bulma visibly bristles, and her face reddens in anger. "Mercy! You show no mercy! You are bloodthirsty, cutthroat and precise!" She slams her hand hard on the table , causing the dishes to rise and fall with a clatter. "Mercy? You're not a hero! Allegedly, you're not a weakling either! You singlehandedly destroy planets, killed my boyfriend, my friends..." Tears sting her eyes. Not in memory of her once fallen beau, but of a cold, desolate future to come. "If you can't destroy my little toys, Vegeta, I don't see how you can stop top of line, murderous machines."

Vegeta's eyes narrow dangerously at her insults. She is a crying mess, disgust upon her features. Disgust very clearly aimed at him. He rises from his chair at the dinner table slowly, right hand deliberately reaching for her throat. It rests there, fingers threatening to close tight and end it all. "I have killed for less."

Not even a little bit phased, she replies. "Is that supposed to impress me?"

With a growl, Vegeta's hand leaves her throat and follows the rest of him as he exists the dining room. Bulma's mother and father sit at the table, shaking. "I wish you wouldn't antagonize him so, darling. The poor dear works so hard."

Bulma ignores her trembling mother, slamming any doors in her wake and stamping her feet like a teenager who just got denied an extended curfew. Bulma reaches the solitude of her bedroom, entering her bathroom and splashes cold water on her face to decrease the swelling around her eyes. She cups some of the water in her hands and drinks it, suddenly thirsty as if she has been running a marathon.

She has been running, she admits, running from the nightmare of a destroyed future. Running from her fear of death without seven sparkling jewels of hope to resurrect her or any of her loved ones. Running from the uncertainty of if three years is enough time to improve and save her planet and it's people.

Running from her misplaced faith in a man who had once seen fit to kill them all.

Bulma wakes with a start, the door to her bedroom flung open with such a force that it rips from its hinges. A heavy weight falls onto her leg with a loud thud, pain searing through it. She turns on the light to see Vegeta, bloody, dirty, and breathing heavily standing in her doorway. Bulma's eyes move from the mighty warrior Prince to the source of weight resting on her now bruised leg.

A scrap of metal she instantly recognizes as what used to be one of her sparring droids. A large black "C", encompassing a smaller "C" partially visible on the heavy scrap. He seems surprised when she starts to laugh. Bulma wipes tears of relief from her eyes. "Took you long enough, I was beginning to think this planet was making you grow soft."

He turns and leaves without a word. With tremendous effort, Bulma picks up the scrap metal and makes her way to the Gravity Room with her toolbox. She has work to be done, and a future to help save.

This world no longer needs a hero, and neither does she. The future doesn't need a better man, just the baddest to takes its enemies down.

And Vegeta's got what it takes. In spades.

1018 words

Authors Note: I've been out of the fanfiction game for a long time. And never, despite having been a fan for over ten years, have I posted a Dragonball Z fanfic. A recent nostalgia overcame me and after finding a lovely community called "We're Just Saiyan" on google+ I found the urge to try writing again.

This particular work is based off of the community music challenge. The song I selected was "Short Change Hero", by The Heavy. Instead of presenting this like a song fic, I decided to take elements from the lyrics and incorporate them into the story.

It certainly was a lot of I fun to write, and I can't wait for the next challenge! Until we meet again my lovelies.


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